Miles to Go Before I Sleep
by Objective Mistress
Summary: When an accident sends Temperance Brennan into a coma and into a world of her mind's creation, things between her and "just partners" Booth are bound to change in a manner that none could have predicted.  When things are done, will anything be the same?
1. Chapter 1

_**Wow! I haven't written in a while have I? No worries though, my current classes have been kicking me in the butt. With five AP classes and marching band in full swing, I've got a lot on my plate. Anyway, I will be releasing the first chapter to "Just a Year" shortly (if you still want it, that is); I think it will be a nice alternate reality to hide in during this season! Enjoy this story though! **_

_**FYI, this contains spoilers for Season 6. So far, just of what we've seen. **_

_**Twitter - ObjectiveMiss**_

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_In the woods…_

The ever intelligent Temperance Brennan found herself in a snowy wood, crystallized water drifting slowly from seemingly nowhere. The flakes drifted soundlessly to the already snow-covered ground, some bits sticking to trees in their decent, framing the forest as a foggy window pane does the winter landscape. It's idyllic really; a scene straight from a holiday greeting card.

A shiny piece of plastic on her shirt catches her eye. She grasps the blazer between her thumb and index fingers, pulling the shirt away from her body in order to get a better look at the tag. "Dr. Temperance Brennan," it reads in bold script, and "award winning writer and forensic anthropologist" in slightly smaller font. A corner of her mouth drops in displeasure; why would a name tag list her as a writer first and an anthropologist second? Regardless, she straightens her short, heat emanating from beneath the thin layer of clothing she wore. In fact, her current attire is nowhere near appropriate for the weather, but yet, she feels no winter chill nipping at her sensitive skin.

Something seems wrong; out of place. It's the feeling she gets when looking over a particularly vexing set of remains, waiting to notice the key detail that could potentially solve the case. She has no recollection of how she even…_appeared_ here. She glances behind her; no footprints to indicate where she had come from.

It's inexplicable really, her boots slid and slipped in reply.

"Where am I?"

The snow merely blinked in reply.

Panic rises, robbing her of her calm demeanor. Nothing seemed to fit together.

Seeing no better alternative, Brennan takes a tentative step forward. The snow compacts with an audible crunch with each and every step. The air remains eerily still as the anthropologist proceeds forward. But unlike a usual walk, the isolation is more perplexing than relaxing.

Footsteps sound to her left; she jerks her head in the sound of the steps. The shadow of a lone individual is barely visible in the darkness of the night as he (or she) strolls down the adjacent furrow. She opens her mouth to call out, but no sound comes out. Her hand flies to her throat, examining the skin for any external signs of damage. She had talked a minute or two ago, hadn't she? But the woods seemed to rob her of any sense of time.

She hears another set of steps, this time to her right. The silhouette is the same as before. Inklings of recognition cause her to squint in thought. Who was that? Why where they here? How where they here? What is here?

"Confused?" An oh so familiar voice rings out.

Desperately Brennan spins about, searching for its source. She scans the landscape, until her keen eyesight trains in on that mysterious shadow, leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of an evergreen tree.

"You know Bones, you might want to bundle up; it's pretty chilly out here, what with the snow and all.

There stand Booth, clad in that grey suit that she loved so much. A blood red tie ringed around his neck, pointing down his signature "cocky" belt buckle. He's toying with his poker chip; a lopsided smirk and a cocked eyebrow beckoned her closer.

"I'm sure you have plenty of questions…as you always do. But-" he stepped closer, leaning close to her hear. So close in fact, that his hot breath caressed my cheek cruelly, "there are only a few I can answer at this point in time."

Brennan's eyes looked over his shoulder to the woods, trying to avoid his heated gaze for her own sake.

"You want to know where we are…don't you?" His hand slides down to the small of her back, his nimble fingers tracing soothing circles.

An involuntary gasp escapes from her as he nuzzles her head to the side.

"I don't know where we are…"

Her eyes widen.

"But we can find out together."

She opens her mouth so speak, but she finds herself once again devoid of a voice. It was akin to being in a vacuum; without a medium, sound cannot travel.

"Let me give you a hand there Bones," he leans down to the junction between her neck and shoulder. His lips trace a column of fire from there, down to her clavicle. "Any better?" He smiled in a way that made one want to melt into a viscous puddle.

This simply was not Booth, certainly not him at all. His conduct was highly unprofessional given the state of their current…relationship.

"Don't be so surprised, none of this is real."

"What do you mean?" she stammers out; her first words after quite a bit of involuntary silence.

"I only say it because you were thinking it. You can't tell me you didn't have a feeling that this couldn't be happening, right? But let's talk as we walk, okay?

They walk in silence for a few paces, just enjoying the company. A familiar pace settles between the two; it is not one that is chosen, rather, one that drives one forward like a snare drummer.

She nods, logical mind screaming in vain protest. Brennan had already surmised that this place was out of ordinary. Could she be dreaming? And if so, what could possibly go wrong?

"So what do you mean that none of this is real?" she asks.

"I only know what you know Bones…only what you know."

"But your earlier statement surely suggested that-"

"Stop for a sec," he gently grabs her arm, gazing into her eyes.

The feelings begin again. Yes, _those_ feelings that she had desperately suppressed for his own sake. After more or less coming to terms with the attraction she felt, he returned from his tour of duty, beautiful blonde trailing shortly behind. And after seeing them together…well, their relationship was overwhelmingly positive; she couldn't take that away from him. She wanted him to be happy.

"I don't know, I feel like I'm going to kiss you..." he mumbles.

This can't happen. This _cannot _happen she can't allow it to…for his sake.

"No!" she shouts, surprised at the intensity of her voice. "Y-You said it yourself. We opened a door…" her breath is short, her heart races.

"-And neither of us wanted to step through it."

"Right," she nods uncertainly. "We can't do this. You have Hannah," she babbles, "…she is all you ever wanted. I would never push to destroy the love you share…" 

He smiles, "You won't. But you will be waiting, secretly hoping that we'll fall apart. But don't feel badly about it," Booth seems to sense the guilt rising up in her, "I know you can't help it. Your logic was faulty in the first place, after all."

"My logic is never faulty as it is centered upon facts."

"You see," he continues, "logic requires a sound premise. And the excuse of hurting me... not a good one at all."

Brennan pushes forward, hands sheathed in her pockets not knowing what else to do. She and Booth had circled one another for years; Hannah had been the factor the end the stalemate.

"Booth, why am I here?" she stops.

"You don't remember?" he halts a few paces behind her.

She shook her head.

Booth's face contorts in deep thought for a brief moment. "What was the last thing you remember?"

"I-I was in my car... and... oh my..."

Suddenly, she feels the flushing feeling of pooling blood. Her shirt dampens with the thicker-than-water liquid. Shakily, she draws a hand to her abdomen to assess the wound; instinctively, her hand jerks back at the contact of blood. While her work as a forensic anthropologist left her neither squeamish nor weak-stomach, the growing volume of her own blood sends her mind into loops of fear.

Blood accompanies wounds, which are accompanied by pain, yet, she feels none.

"Here, let me get that for you," Booth plants a tender hand upon her torso.

Magically, the blood evaporates, leaving her short clean and dry. Her hand, however, still bears the distinctive red of blood.

"I need to know why I'm here."

"We'll figure it out Bones, we just need to keep walking."

"Why?"

"We've got miles to go to get out of these woods."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_Out of the woods…_

"Bones!" Booth frantically cried, flinging himself from his SUV. As fast as his legs to carry him, he ran towards the blaring sirens.

"Sir! You can't come over that line!"

He ignores the yellow tape, barreling past the local law enforcement officers yelling at him to stop.

"This is a restricted accident zone," a burley officer grabs him by the arm.

He twisted like a panicking animal, wrenching his arm from the man's grasp. Never once did it occur to him that a quick flash of his FBI badge could have removed him from this situation as quickly as he had stumbled into it.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his eyes watching the firefighters around the wreckage of what was clearly her Mercedes.

"Who?"

His steeled gaze commands an answer as he pushes past the officer.

"If you're looking for who I think you are looking for, you won't want to go over there," the cop took a step after the FBI agent. "She's alive, but unconscious; the firefighters are still working on getting her out of the car. But honestly, that hunk of metal that she was driving in saved her life. The guys think that they can get her out in once piece."

"What happened?"

"Driver ran a red light."

"Is he hurt?"

"Nope, damn bastard walked away with only minor injuries. Already a driver with some points on his record, we've taken him down to the station to revoke his license."

"W-What can I do?" Booth asks almost rhetorically.

The officer's walkie talkie beeps, signaling him to draw it close to his ear. "Head over to the ambulance, they are gonna take her over to Washington Hospital center."

Numbness overcomes his senses as he wanders towards the ambulance. That officer had been right; he didn't want to see her like that. Ever. No doubt, it would be something that would never leave him. The ring of his cell phone broke him from his dazed state. It was Hannah.

He picked up the phone wordlessly.

"_Seeley?"_

"Hannah, this isn't a great time."

_"Where are you?"_

The swallowed hard. "About to head to Washington Hospital Center."

_"Are you alright?"_

"Yes." Only later would he feel guilt for making her milk him for information. "It's Bones…" he choked.

_"Don't say a word, I'll meet you there_."

She was great like that, always ready to support him; and he would surely been in need of much support.

"Open up those doors!" a paramedic called out from behind him.

Booth went into solider mode, ready to follow any order that was tossed in his direction.

"I'm coming with you," he asserted.

"Are you her boyfriend?" the paramedic asked hurriedly, waving over the stretcher.

"Yes," he lied, knowing full well that he might be denied if he had said no.

"Hustle!" the emergency worker called to his co-workers, as they pushed her closer and closer.

"We're not even close to being out of the woods yet…"

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_**Hope you enjoyed! Much more on the way! If you would, pleas drop me a review! It only takes a second, and it will help break off the rust I've acquired over my hiatus. Let me know if you liked it, or even if you still want to see "Just a Year." **_

_**I will always reply to every review, as always! **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Well thank you everyone for all the lovely feedback! It's really great to be writing again!**_

_**Just for clarification (if you needed it), Brennan is semi-aware of her less-than-reality state, while Booth (usually the second half of the chapter) is firmly rooted in reality. You might note the change in tense between the two portions. I also added an additional tag to the beginning of each section just to make things extra clear.**_

_**By the way, I'm trying to stay away from the Bones "coma trope" cliché; Bones' coma is just a way to explore an interesting subconscious sort of thing. **_

_**Hope you enjoy this installment!**_

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_In the woods…_

"Am I supposed to feel hopelessly confused?" Brennan asked, kicking some of the powdery snow up into the air.

"If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way," Booth shrugged.

She no longer had any sense of how long they had wandered through the woods, watching the snow land on the ground. But despite the high rate of snowfall, only four or five inches seemed to accumulate. The woods seemed completely homogeneous; no distinguishing landmarks, just neat rows of naked deciduous trees. Quite queer really, but something in the back of her mind told her not to question it.

It reminded her of a foster home, and how much she dreaded the snow. The frozen precipitation would clog the roads forcing school cancellation, leaving her not only with a day stuck with her abusive foster parents, but void of a day's worth of learning.

But suddenly, a new shadow appeared on the horizon; it was an apple tree, smack in the middle of the furrow that they had paced for God-knows how long. Perhaps the oddest thing about the perennial was that it was…well…unlike all the others. Somehow, it had managed to retain its leaves, still verdant and healthy despite the winter. The foliage was remarkable; it looked as if it had been uprooted from a spring scene, and dropped into this winter hell-land only moments before.

Hanging from its branches were ripe apples, with a golden skin finely mottled with red. They were Gala apples; her favorite to pick up at the local organic marketplace.

Somehow, the couple came to stand beneath its outstretched branches.

"Well, it's a nice change from rows of Charlie Brown's Christmas tree," Booth leaned up against the trunk, stirring it ever so slightly with his applied weight.

"I don't know what that means."

"Oh of course you do," he took his weight off the tree; it's branches rustling as if annoyed at the loss of contact. "Remember, last Christmas. I insisted that Parker watch part of a 'Charlie Brown Christmas' with me? You were there."

Without, warning, the ground gave a great shake. Snow displaced from the tree tops rained to the ground in a large frosty pulse. She took a few frightened steps back, her eyes trained fearfully forward.

Booth chuckled.

"Always on the move aren't we?" The voice seemed to come from nowhere; it was most certainly not Booth speaking as his lips didn't even move.

As suddenly as it had started, the ground stilled with one final shudder. Brennan could see the force radiate up the apple tree in a wave, shaking the apples two and fro. One apple seemed to take the offensive motion particularly hard, as it swung almost freely from side to side. Hanging by only particles, the apple reluctantly let go, landing with an audible thump on Booth's head.

"At least we know that gravity is working…" he watched the apple fall through the snow.

But when she looked down to the crater left by the plunging fruit, there was nothing there. In fact, the apple seemed to have fallen through the ground itself. To where, well, she need not speculate.

Effortlessly, he plucked a fresh apple from the branch, taking a leisurely taste. "Want a bite?"

Brennan had not realized how she had jumped back during the earthquake of sorts. Temptation seemed to get the best of her, as she few steps forward. Of course, Murphy's Law governed that "anything that can go wrong, will go wrong"; an unseen patch of ice sent her sprawling on to his chest, knocking him down in the process. She watched as the apple was flung from his hand, rolling to a slow stop floating comfortably on a pillow of snow.

Only now, did she feel the chill. It overwhelmed and overtook her; she couldn't even feel the warmth that usually radiated between them when they would have a "guy hug." They did do so anymore though, certainly because it would cross some sort of social conduct line. They couldn't get any closer than this.

"Bones, either kiss me or get up," he said calmly.

"W-What?" Brennan stuttered.

"We've been going around in circles for years. I _finally_ broke the stalemate. Either make a move, or step back."

To say the least, she was stunned. Except for that ephemeral night where they kissed outside Sweet's office building, the partners had _never_ had a remotely straight talk about the status of their…"relationship," if you will. So, how they felt was bottled up, and released like one cautiously twists the top off a shaken soft-drink bottle. Of course, now, those lids were once again firmly tightened.

Brennan got back to her feet, brushing the snow off her. But instead of stepping all the way back, she offered a hand, and helped to pull him to his feet.

"It's okay," it was Booth's turn to wipe the snow off his clothing. "You aren't as ready as you thought you were…right?"

She dropped her gaze to the snow, her head downcast like a scolded child. "I told myself that when I returned from Maluku and you from Afghanistan that I would be ready to give _us_ a shot…" she paused. "..Part of me kept repeating that I regretted turning you down, but my other half affirmed that I would never be right for the kind of relationship you wanted. Though in referring to 'halves' of myself, I assure you that I do not have a split personality disorder, right?"

"Bones, I most definitely know that you are right up here," he tapped his own head.

By some mutual agreement, they resumed their previous past through the wood. For the first time, she looked up at the sky; it was an indigo, with random lighter areas. It seemed like a cloudy, winter evening, just before duck and the sky turned to a forever deep black.

But up ahead, another ominous shadow loomed. It was not a tree at all; instead, a door, in fact, two doors paired together. It was auspicious enough; it looked like the sort of door one would expect in a school building, or in a set of fire-escape stairs. It seemed to be steel, with fluorescent light pouring from underneath.

Decidedly curious, the anthropologist pressed her ear to the shockingly tepid door. From the other side (well if it had a physical "other side" as it was free standing) she could hear the echo of voices. But too many were talking at once; she could barely distinguish one work from then next.

_"Please tell me she'll be okay…"_

Who was that she that person referring to? Could it possibly her? She was conscious briefly after whatever happened to her in her car before…well, whatever was currently occurring.

Cautiously, Brennan placed a hand along the brushed steel of the opening mechanism, cautiously depressing it. For a split second, she was blinded by the light coming through.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Bones, we're not going that way, not just yet."

"Why not?"

"We still have miles to go before you can sleep."

"I'm not feeling hypnagogic in the slightest," she stepped back from the door.

"I have no doubt that you will feel tired in no time," he pointed to a staircase leading down into the snow. "That's where we're going."

"It looks dark…"

"Only because it is so light up here," Booth led the way down the cast iron, spiral staircase.

Single file, they descended through the snow. The lower they got, the lighter and fluffier the show appeared until they floated in the air like stratocumulus clouds. The companionway led all the way to another ground, covered in snow. In fact, the level they were on looked just like the one above. With the exception of the sky, which was a deep indigo, much darker than the one above.

The apple, which had fallen down to here not much earlier, sat poised on a fluff of snow.

"Ready to take a bite?"

Brennan swallowed uncomfortably, "Not just yet."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_Out of the woods…_

With the ease of routine, the two man paramedic team deftly loaded the stretcher into the ambulance's bay.

Booth had ridden in ambulances before. He'd been injured in the field more than he cared to remember and had to suffer the ride and hospital. Not to mention that he'd ridden with Bones after she got shot despite how vehemently she refused needed him.

But currently, she was unable to bicker or argue about his riding position.

He slid into the uncomfortable seat as he buckled up (just to be sure that he couldn't injure her in any way), and wrapped his hand around the edge of her stretcher. She looked so weak, so helpless there. He reached down, and slid his hand into hers. It was comforting to him; he could only hope it did the same for her.

"You'll be okay Bones…God you'll be okay."

Closing his eyes, he couldn't help but pray to God that he didn't lose her, especially in a manner as sudden as this.

"Sir, I need her hand," the paramedic said apologetically.

Booth nodded, reluctantly relinquishing his grip.

"You can hold this though," the EMT held up some sort of fluid bag.

Eager to help in any way, he held the bag up, and let the expert do his business, inserting an IV on her left arm.

Suddenly, the ambulance made an unexpected turn. The FBI agent scrambled to say in his place as centripetal force whipped him around.

"Always on the move, aren't we?" the EMT remarked over his shoulder to the driver.

The driver shrugged, "You know how insane people drive. Just add in some flashing lights and a siren and people practically freeze up."

All Booth wanted to do was bury his head in his hands and pray to God that this wasn't really happening. But he couldn't, for her sake. He just watched her, sneaking a glance out of the rear window to see how far they had come. It was just about six PM; the height of the greater Washington D.C. rush hour. He remembered reading an article that proclaimed the Capitol Beltway as the third worst commute in the nation. Tonight, traffic seemed relatively light; of course, that could be due to the fact that the ambulance had a free "go directly to go" pass on the roads.

It seemed like it took hours for the ambulance to back in to the emergency room dock.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as they unloaded his one and only partner, and swiftly inside. The EMTs briefed the hospital personnel before peeling off to do whatever they had to.

"Are you her boyfriend?" a woman in scrubs asked.

"Does it matter?" he growled, easily keeping pace with the speeding stretcher.

"Hospital policy. Family only."

"Yes, I'm her partner."

It wasn't a blatant lie, but he had no problem doing what he had to do to stay by Bones' side.

The doctors lead them through countless sharp turns, deeper and into the labyrinth that was Washington Hospital Center.

"We're going to take her in to prepare for surgery immediately."

"Sir, you'll have to stop here," a nurse cut him off. "Waiting room is down the hall," she pointed.

Booth took one last lingering look at her wan form. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if in immense pain. For a brief moment, he swore he saw her eyes crack open; he could only imagine the harsh fluorescent glare that met her pupils. But of course, he could have easily imagined it as her eyes closed once again, and the motion-sensor doors closed behind her.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_**WOW! I'd like to thank everyone for the great feedback from the last chapter! I felt so loved! Please drop a review again! You have no idea how much your words meant to me!**_

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I think we all need a bit of a dream to hide from this season of Bones. ;) Review!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sorry about the delay! Life is still INSANE for me! I'm becoming one of…"those" authors aren't I? I'll do my best to churn these out!**_

_**I can't tell you how happy I am that people have bought into the story's premise! I know, it's easily the biggest hurdle in this story, but accept that, and you're in for a wild ride!**_

_**I think I replied to every review; if not, my apologies. I always reply to every review as it is the least I can do; you give your time to write a review, I reciprocate.**_

_**Enjoy this third installment, as I whisk you away from the harsh, season six reality…**_

_**Twitter - ObjectiveMiss**_

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_In the woods…_

"It's quite a bit darker down here," Brennan remarked, gazing up deep indigo sky. It looked as if it had been covered with watercolor brushstrokes.

"Well that's because we're quite a bit deeper," Booth replied.

"Well that makes perfect sense…" she grumbled.

Booth could be so recursive here. It seemed that much of the time, his statements and actions mirrored her thoughts. It was strange honestly, that he could act in such a peculiar manner. It was as if…no, it couldn't be possible. Sure, something seemed out of place, but not Booth. Telepathy or any other sort of extrasensory perception was impossible. He often claimed to have a "sixth sense," one that could pick up things that his actual five senses could not. Of course, Brennan knew this was just an unconscious ability to read minutia of detail; this, she had told him many times before.

"Bones, do you ever think about 'what if' situations?"

"It's highly illogical as the situations in question could never happen and are thus a waste of time-"

"You didn't answer the question," he stopped without warning; it took her a few strides to realize his sudden lack of motion.

"I didn't know I needed to provide an answer."

His lips quirked up into a half smile. "That was like five years ago in our relationship."

"I didn't know we still had one," Brennan turned.

Something inside her snapped; she just couldn't help it. She was usually blunt with her words; she thought that their use in excess only led to confusion and twisting of simple communications of the truth. But when it came to emotional difficulties, she usually preferred to feign ignorance and deftly sidestep the topic.

"Ooo, that was pretty darn harsh." 

"Well it's true."

"We're partners," he placed a hand on the small of her back, urging her to move forward (whatever direction that was). "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I-I thought so…"

"You changed your mind?" Booth's face remained unreadable.

"Well…" she had been cornered. There was nowhere to go but to confrontation. "I've realized that I didn't have adequate time to properly consider my feelings on the manner. But I feel like our relationship has been…ignored."

"Well what could you expect Bones?" he whipped around. "I told you that I had to move on. That means change. That means changing us. You couldn't have possibly thought that I, finding a woman to spend my life with would interfere with us at all?"

"I didn't think-"

"That's right," he grabbed her shoulder freezing them in place, "you didn't."

The air between them became suddenly icy; the snow falling from the heavens became suddenly harder. The wind whipped up around them, isolating them from the environment just a step away.

"I-I just thought that everything could stay the same…" she stuttered, her voice lacking its usual confidence. "I just didn't know…our relationship has always been _there_. We didn't have to do anything consciously before to maintain it."

"You know what they say," he motioned to a space between trees with an open hand, "well kept gardens die of passivism."

"I don't know what that means, and I'm unsure of who 'they' are."

Suddenly understanding and warm, he placed his hand on the usual place on the small of her back, guiding her to the gap between the trees he had motioned to only a few moments before. It only took a few strides into the expected gloom for her to tell that something was different, and drastically so.

Somehow, a garden had managed to flourish; under someone's doting care, no doubt. It was carefully fenced in with a white picket fence. The gate creaked open as he pushed through into the snow-less area. The smell of fresh top soil entered Brennan's nostrils as she took a gander at the plot. Vibrant flowers of fuchsia and lavender burst from the planted beds, with many other exotic floras in the accompanying furrows.

"Well kept gardens die of passivism," he repeated.

"Saying a phrase again usually will not increase comprehension."

"Are you asking a question?" he said teasingly, as he took a few steps ahead of her.

"Yes," she affirmed. "What do you mean by your earlier statement?"

"I thought it didn't need an answer," he mocked, obviously referring to her earlier attempt to sidestep one of his questions.

Brennan couldn't help but fume; she wasn't used to this sort of teasing from Booth, especially during matters of consequence. Usually, once the topic became significant, he would quickly stifle his playful attitude.

"Typically an inquiry is met with an answer," she noted the abundance of daisies in the garden.

"Right you are then," he strolled around the seemingly endless garden, dragging her behind as an eager child drags a parent from point of interest, to point of interest. I "See, our relationship is much like a garden-"

"-But it isn't alive," she muttered under her breath. It was almost like a way to justify to herself that he was wrong.

He merely rolled his eyes at the typical "Brennan" comment. "It might as well be alive. Bones, you know about relationships, don't play dumb; you aren't very good at it at all. Relationships, just like gardens have to be tended. You plant new things to brighten things up, water it to keep it healthy, and you give it time to grow and mature."

Brennan couldn't help but see the beauty in the painting he was crafting before her. As a writer, she was no stranger to elaborate metaphors in order to bring the reader closer to an unfamiliar topic; in fact, her publisher cited this ability in the great success of her books.

"When you refuse to do anything, that's when the really bad stuff happens," he plucked a daisy, only to have it shrivel and die suddenly in his palm. "Passivism is killing our relationship."

"Blaming the decline of our relationship solely on me is preposterous," she scoffed.

"Why? Because you turn down every offer for dinner or after case drinks? Or is because you seem to avoid me when we aren't working?"

"I never go to dinner with you or for drinks is because Hannah is always there!"

It was out in the open; that mastodon in the corner she had assumed he had seen.

"And why I 'avoid' you," she made liberal use of air quotes (Parker had taught her that a year or two ago, "I never ask you for post case beverages or food because I _know_ you are busy with her!"

"I didn't know; you had never hold me before," Booth closed the distance between them. "You should have told me earlier…"

"I thought you knew…"

"I would have liked to have known."

"It's probably better that you didn't," she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

"The first step to fixing a problem is-"

"-admitting you have one," she finished his statement.

"Where did you-" 

"I remember you mentioning some of the rehabilitation techniques of Gambler's Anonymous."

He cracked a slight smile, "It wasn't rehab, just help."

"Rehabilitation, by definition, is to restore to a condition of good health, ability-"

"Don't get all squinty on me," he shooed her playfully forward, the garden vanishing into the snow. "We've stopped long enough here; we still have miles to go."

"Weren't we going the other way?" Brennan whipped her head about in confusion. She had always had an excellence sense of direction, but it seemed to fail her here. Where was here?

"Direction doesn't matter, as long as you pick one."

"That makes no sense."

"If you want to sail around the world, you pick east or west," he shrugged. "You can have a preference, but you reach the destination in the end."

"But for water transport, there are obviously more optimized ways-"

"Bones, the point is, you can't pick a direction and then suddenly waver and change your mind once you've committed." His features grew suddenly serious. "As far as I'm concerned, we've both picked a direction and committed."

"What if I want to change my mind? Is that still possible?"

"As long as you haven't hit that point of no return."

"When will I know I've made it there?"

"It's something you can only see in hindsight."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_Out of the woods…_

Booth fell heavily into the waiting room chair, its barely adequate padding catching his weight. Bones was hurt, and he didn't know how badly. He felt as if he was thrust into a dark room, left to fumble around clumsily looking for a way out.

The clock on the wall read 9:02 PM. In disbelief, he pulled out his phone to check its time against the wall clock's. 9:01 PM; just one minute off. The events of tonight had seemed to drag on for hours, while in reality, it had lasted only two. The text message icon blinked on the phone, a reminder that there was more going on than grievous injury.

He was the only one knew that Bones was hurt…he should call someone.

Frantically, he speed dialed Angela. With her expected child and his own busy life, he couldn't even remember the last time had had called her. The phone rang and rang…and rang.

"Pick up pick up pick up," he grumbled. If Angela wasn't there, he didn't know what he would do.

_"Booth?" _She said questioningly. _"Is something wrong?"_

"It's Bones…"

_"Where."_

"Washington Hospital Center."

_"Hodgins and I will be right there, call her dad."_ Angela hung up without another word.

Call her dad…call Max…this wasn't the kind of news he wanted to deliver. In fact, Booth wasn't a big fan of delivering _any_ news to Max. From numerous death notifications, he was used to being the bearer of bad news. Surprisingly enough, repetition did not numb him to the experience.

Reluctantly, he pulled Max's number from his phone contacts. Unfortunately he didn't pick up.

"Max, it's Booth…" he froze. "It's Bones…there was an accident...we're at Washington Hospital Center-" he just couldn't bear to say anything more.

He glanced at the clock. 9:07 PM. This would be one of the longest evenings of his life.

Feeling as if he had to do something, he pulled up the text message that had been sitting for God knows how long in his inbox.

_"R U working late?"_

It was from Hannah. Of course it was from her, who else did he text? Well there was Bones, but they hadn't had an extended text correspondence for a while now.

_"No, at hospital."_

If he was in any sane state of mind, he would have realized that being vague was probably not the best communication choice he had ever made.

_"R U okay?"_

It would only occur to him later that asking a potentially injured person if they were "okay" via text message seemed insensitive.

_"Yeah, but Bones isn't."_

Shortly, he felt the buzz of the incoming text message reply. Deciding that nothing Hannah could say could make him feel any better, he slumped back in the chair. He felt the familiar feeling of tears welling up in his eyes. No, he needed to be strong…for Bones and for everyone else.

"How is she?" Angela said, tears pouring from her eyes.

Hodgins wasn't far behind.

"They haven't hold me anything. H-How did you get here so fast?" Booth got to his feet, grateful for the company.

"Italian sports car," Hodgins shrugged. "But in all seriousness, we just got lucky with the green lights."

"I'm sure they will tell us something…" Angela sat down. The stress surely wasn't good for her and her kid.

Hodgins buried his face in his hands, "Eventually."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_**I really hope there is still interest in this story because I'm still really interested in writing it! Let me know! Write a review! Trust me, every little bit of feedback helps. As usual, I will respond to every review.**_

_**Twitter - ObjectiveMiss**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Has anyone ever told you that you were to kind? Nonsense! Not possible! But I do very much appreciate all the lovely feedback you've left me! Here we go!**_

_**By the way, I blame the last episode for the slowness in this chapter coming out. After SOMEONE STOLE MY SUNGLASSES, I lost the will to post. I apologize in advance for the presence of Hannah.**_

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_In the woods…_

With the events of the garden literally miles behind them, the pair walked through the woods in an awkward silence. Angela would have deemed it "awkward, very awkward" indeed. It was as if they had fallen back into their post-Afghanistan/Maluku slump. They didn't know what to say to each other, they didn't know how to act around each other. It was like the months they spent after the fallout of their first case.

Suddenly, a root or some other sort of obstruction caught her toe, causing her to stumble. Brennan silently cursed at the interruption, her façade of calm broken. Her hand brushed the frozen ground as she regained her balance and simultaneously brushed the crystallized water off her pants. It was the sort of stumble that one looks around afterwards to be sure that no one had had witnessed the event. Unfortunately, it had not evaded Booth's notice.

"Walk much?" One corner of his lips curled into a slightly arrogant smirk.

"Quite often," Brennan bit back.

It had taken her some time to be able to recognize his humor and sarcasm, but she had become much more adept at responding in a socially appropriate manner.

It was much like Booth had said when they had decided to part ways for a year. Something _had_ to change; it was simply inevitable.

"Do you think we'll ever be the same?' she blurted out. She swore that she hadn't said that out loud.

"Truth or sugar?"

"Are you asking me to decide between the truth and a false twist on the truth that would avoid potentially uncomfortable feelings?'

Booth rolled his eyes with a smile. "Yes Bones, that's exactly what I'm asking you."

"That was a completely unneeded question then," Brennan scoffed.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because you know me. You know that I will always look for the truth."

"So truth then."

"I thought I had made that clear."

He looked down in seeming contemplation. She knew that he preferred to distort the truth in order to avoid confrontation, which was considerably interesting when one considers that he would never back down from a physical affray. But that sort of thing was really best left for Sweets.

He stopped, they were a few paces apart.

"I don't know if we can ever be the same," Booth thinned his lips into a thin line.

"I don't see why we can't we can't."

"Bones, once something is broken, it can't be repaired back to as good as new," he pulled out a bone from thin air. "You know that as well as anyone…" he allowed the osseous matter to slip from his fingers.

"No!" Brennan cried instinctively, closing the gap between them as she dived to the ground. But this was in vain effort.

In a sort of slow motion, the bone slammed into the ground. It burst into hundreds of shards that rebounded into the air in every which direction. It was almost beautiful; physics at its finest. Conservation of both mass and energy played their parts as energy moved between kinetic, potential, and thermal. For a brief moment, she understood the allure of television shows that showcased slow motion explosions.

She could easily recall the first bone she had ever dropped. She was a graduate student who held the bones in the very same esteem as she held them today. But as her work piled up, she was forced to work later and later hours. As exhaustion took its toll, so did her concentration and coordination. One evening, as she felt her head nod forward in a want for sleep, the skull she was working with slid from her grip.

It was something that she would do everything in her power to prevent in the future.

Brennan would pay for this mistake not only with hours of additional work, but a loss of evidence with the new fractures to the skull. Luckily, her instructor was lenient and understanding of the error. But she wasn't. Dropping that skull had been a waste of _her _time, and it lost evidence weighed heavily upon her shoulders.

"I-I can put it back together…" she got to her knees, collecting the fragments in her hands. "…Glue…that's all I need."

Booth laid a tender hand on her shoulder, "But it will never be the same."

"Of course it can be-"

"Bones, you know as well as I do, that once something is broken, not matter if you arrange the pieces back to exactly the way they were, it will never be exactly the same."

"But conservation of matter! It's all still there!"

"But what it has lost is that binding element," he crouched down next to her, making all the shards disappear with a wave of his hand. "And that is the most important part. It's not about what's there, it's about what holds it together."

"I don't know what that means…" she truly didn't. Booth never spoke in riddles, and his circular logic was typically reserved for religion.

"Like the squint squad," he helped her to her feet, casually brushing some snow off her clothing. "When all of us parted ways, the pieces were still there, and even when we reassembled," he meshed his fingers together, "we just didn't have that stuff that used to hold us together. Yeah, it will re-grow with time, but it will never be exactly the same."

"I will concede to that point," Brennan allowed him to urge her forward. "But how does that pertain to us?"

"Oh come on, you're smarter than that."

She thought for a moment, but he couldn't possibly be inferring what she thought he was. "Do you think we're broken?"

"Honestly…" he shrugged, "I don't know."

"But your statement surely suggested that you do."

"To put it your way, it's just hard to tell from our viewpoint. I think we have a fracture, which shows in how we've been working together lately, but without an x-ray, we have no way to know how badly we are broken and if it's repairable at all."

"You're making too much sense…"

"I never thought you'd say that," he grinned.

"You taught me never to say never…but what can we do to prevent and repair the 'breaks' in our relationship?"

"We both know who is standing between us."

"Hannah," she sighed.

Part of her knew it would have to come down to her; it was elementary. Hannah was the major change between them since their parting. The journalist was the independent variable in the experiment of their relationship, which greatly affected the dependant variable; their relationship's health.

"Well what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Well that solves nothing," he said it with disappointment.

"Either way I choose, something potentially undesirable happens-"

"A Catch-22?"

"No, that would be when one has knowledge of being or becoming a victim but has no control over it occurring," she clarified. "If I choose to do nothing…you're happy and in love. If I choose to confront my feelings…there is a high probability that both you and I end up unhappy."

He squinted in thought, "So it's you unhappy versus you _and_ me unhappy."

Brennan thought for a moment, mentally turning her ideas over. "Essentially, yes. It's simple utilitarianism."

"But that's not exactly something you subscribe to."

"You're mistaken." The last thing she wanted was for him to discover some sort of flaw in her logic.

"You're the one who _insists_ on the truth, no matter what."

She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Booth, having you happy is much more important than me being happy."

"And why would that be?" he prodded.

"Do you fully intend to vocalize my thoughts?"

"Well I'm no mind reader," he winked.

"I want you to be happy," a bit of the weight was lifted off her chest. "If that forces a compromise for my own happiness, so be it."

Booth shook his head, simply electing to walk farther ahead, his hands sheathed in his pockets.

"Wait," she called, but he didn't stop. "Have you no reply?" she jogged after him.

"Bones, things fall apart, it's the natural order."

"That's entropy. Nature moves from order to disorder in isolated systems. Disorder is more probable than order…"

"It's science, of course you get it."

"But what do you mean by it?"

"I think you know."

Booth couldn't possibly mean…_that_. That their relationship was doomed to fail from its onset; no, that couldn't be. Perhaps he was simply saying that their falling out was completely natural and not aggravated by any sort of force from outside their isolated system. But if that was the case, why hadn't they drifted apart earlier? It didn't make sense; none of it was logical at all. There were still other options of course; perhaps he was making a reference to the isolated system itself. Their relationship wasn't isolated and left on its own; it was unconsciously maintained and when it became forgotten, it fell into disrepair.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," he flashed his charm smile. "Now come on slowpoke, we have to keep going."

Brennan yawned despite her best efforts. Perhaps she was getting tired.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_Out of the woods…_

It could have been hours, it could have minutes, but the squeak of the waiting room door caused his head to snap up in anticipation. He hoped it was the doctor bringing news of Bones' condition, but yet, the doctor's presence could force him to deal with an unpleasant reality. But luckily, he wouldn't have to deal with either yet.

"Oh Seeley, are you alright," it was Hannah who emerged into the fluorescent room.

By reflex, he rose to his feet, accepting her hug.

"You aren't hurt are you?" she pulled back a bit.

"I'm fine…I wasn't even with her," he said, a bit of guild lacing his voice.

That's right, he hadn't been with her. Maybe if he was driving, none of this nonsense would have occurred in the first place.

"I'm here for you," she patted his hand, taking a seat at his side.

He acted as nothing different had happened; he was already on the opposite side of the room from the squint squad. This was something he had to face alone; after all, Bones was facing it alone too.

Booth couldn't remember when Cam and Sweets came in; he wasn't even sure why the two of them would arrive together. But each looked as tired and as concerned as the already seated friends.

Finally, the individual the group had been waiting for hours for entered the room, still clad in sea-foam green scrubs.

"Evening, I'm Dr. Wimmer," he pulled the surgical mask off his face. "We've just pulled Ms. Brennan-"

"_Doctor_ Brennan," everyone but Hannah automatically corrected.

"-Dr. Brennan is out of surgery and in recovery. She suffered a collapsed lung due to a puncture by a broken rib and-" the young physician stopped, surveying the room. He seemed to catch the pained feeling. "We can go over her injuries extensively later, the important thing, is that she is still in critical condition. More importantly, she is in an unresponsive coma."

A collective gasp seemed to such air from the room. 

"According to statements by the EMTs, it seems that she was more conscious earlier, which can give us more hope for recovery. But remember, the longer one stays in such a state, the less likely a full recovery."

"Can we see her?" Angela managed between choked sobs.

"I'll check with the nursing staff, but it will most likely be just one visitor at a time for now; we need to make sure that she is stabilized."

"Booth should go first," Cam said, holding Angela's hand. "Brennan would want that."

The others nodded in agreement.

Booth got to his feet, turning to Dr. Wimmer.

"Follow me."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_**Well I certainly hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review! They really mean a lot to me and help to stimulate writing! Tell me what you thought, what you liked, what confused you, or even what you'd like to see. You never know! ;)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Go ahead, hate me. :P _**

**_Have your chapter and enjoy it!_**

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_In the woods…_

"Don't we have something better to do than hike through a coniferous forest in the snow with no apparent destination?" Brennan complained. Typically, she didn't waste her breath on useless protest, but fatigue was beginning to set in as well as the bone chilling cold, weakening her tough façade.

"We have a destination," he pointed to the horizon, "it's just on top of that hill."

It was a lone rolling crest on skyline; a mere two-dimensional silhouette in the low light of the woods.

"Then what?" she yawned, stopping to lean on her knees in a vain attempt to catch her breath.

She hadn't noticed until a bit farther back, but their leisurely walk was literally uphill the entire time. The grade of the slope seemed to increase at a more rapid rate as they ventured deeper and deeper.

"We take care of business then head back."

"At least it will be downhill," she grumbled.

"Actually," Booth grabbed her hand to coax her to keep moving, "it's uphill both ways. I think its steeper on the way back."

It didn't come to her mind to question the rather obvious flaw in this logic.

As they ascended the final peak, the sky began to shift. It became lighter, as if the clouds were parting; they had reached the eye of the storm. But, as the darkness lifted, a sickly green flow overcame the lightless sky; the sort that occurred just before a tornado-producing storm.

"Come on slowpoke!"

She looked up to see Booth triumphant at the summit.

"It's only a bit farther!"

Brennan struggled; the snow seemed to get deeper and deeper with every step she took. The wind blew vigorously downhill, buffeting her violently. For the first time, the cold permeated fully to her very bones, causing her skin to rise in goose bumps. In a vain attempted to still the shivering that shook her limbs like a palsy, she crossed her arms, dropping her shoulder to better battle the forces opposing her.

"Keep coming Bones! I'm waiting!"

She wouldn't give up. She _couldn't_ give up. Tucker her head down from the swirling blizzard, she moved up the hill step by step. For years, she had known about the value of procedure; but never before had she fully understood the common saying that instructed one to tackle large problems "step by step."

Finally, she could see over the crest of the hill; Booth was waiting with open arms. A sort of pride swelled within her chest in triumph.

"See?" Booth pulled her into a 'guy hug.' "I knew you could make it."

Brennan allowed herself to submit to his display of affection. She melted into his arms, her exhaustion flowing away like the receding tide.

"Just one more thing to do," he pulled her to the center of the hill.

There stood two trees, a rope bound around each trunk, then tied together in the middle by an intricate knot. The trees leaned inward, as if a powerful force was pulling them towards the center. The rope, instead of holding the trees together, seemed to be holding them paradoxically apart. It was truly an odd sight; it was safe to say that she had never encountered something similar in her travels far and wide.

"What is it?" she took a cautious step forward.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize it," he leaned against one trunk casually. "But I suppose it's out of context when it isn't in Gordium without its ox cart."

She smoothed a hand over the rough cable, "The Gordian Knot?"

"Well, _a _Gordian Knot in our case. Are you familiar with it?"

"It represents an intractable problem…Alexander the Great was unable to untie it, so he severed it with-"

"-One bold stroke."

"But why this?" It simply didn't make any sense that something like this could just appear after all; the world had governing rules.

"Well, you have your own Gordian Knot to deal with, don't you?"

"I suppose…"

"There's been a problem between us, hasn't there? Pretty intractable too, if you ask me. We've tried to deal with it…trying to untie it." He stepped dangerously close to her; so close that she could feel his breath upon her. "I confronted you, and you turned me down…but neither one of use was ready to face the truth fully and completely."

"But for the majority of the time, we avoided it," she clarified.

Booth sadly grinned, "That's true, we ignored it, or tried to at least. But that didn't make it go away, did it? In fact, we _both_ ran from the collapse of our partnership. Me to Afghanistan, you to Maluku. But you see, a Gordian knot can only be settled in one way…"

She gasped at his implication.

"…with one bold stroke."

"I-I can't," Brennan turned away. "You're supposed to be the bold and emotional one. You're supposed to be the one to make the first move."

"I did, but let's face it; I messed up big time. And besides, isn't the guy asking the girl an 'antiquated mating ritual' or something?"

She unwillingly cracked a smile, he knew her all too well.

"You have everything you need here," he touched her temple, "and here," he pressed a finger to her sternum.

"But-"

"Don't give that 'the heart is just a muscle' crap. Yeah, it's a muscle, but you've exercised and strengthened time and time again with how much you care for others. It will pull you through, you just have to trust it. It's been pumping blood your entire life and you've trusted it to do that much. Now trust it and your gut."

His arguments seemed irrefutable. Realizing her loss, she resigned herself to the fact that he was right. But his arguments seemed to resonate within her, as if he was pulling his arguments from her deeply and long buried feelings. It was as if she was holding a conversation with herself.

"What do I have to do," she met his eyes at last.

"Make a bold move."

It was time for her to step up to the plate and swing. She physically steadied herself, hoping that it would help her to make it through emotionally. The wind seemed to whip up as her proximity to the knot increased.

"I think I'm ready for a relationship," she said.

The wind howled in response.

"I wish I hadn't turned Booth down the first time, it was a mistake," she swallowed nervously.

"Louder Bones! I can't hear you!"

Emboldened, she stood up straighter, with more confidence in her declarations. But the wind had already backed down; the gale withered down to a wimpy breeze, the sweet smell of summer evident. Quickly, it registered with her how out of place this warm breeze was in the midst of winter.

"I think it's over…" Brennan said with conviction, the environment around her transforming rapidly into one of lush green.

"I know you're right," Booth stepped up to her side, his hand finding that familiar spot on her back.

"What now?"

"I think we need to walk back," he motioned off into the distance. "It's all downhill from here."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

"She's in a fully stable state," Dr. Wimmer glanced at the various medical displays beeping and blinking in response to some unknown stimuli. "On the Rancho Los Amigos Scale of comas-" he paused to scribble his signature on a clipboard of a passing nurse, "she is on level two. We have been able to rouse generalized responses from her."

"Do you think she'll get better?" Booth didn't even bother dragging his gaze from Brennan's prone form.

"I prefer to be cautiously optimistic," the doctor crossed his arms. "I have found that in cases in which a patient is able to respond this quickly after an accident, recovery is often easy."

He swallowed. "Is that all."

"Yes," Wimmer shuffled out.

Booth shook his head, easing down into the plastic-wrapped chair at his partner's bedside. "How did we get here? I guess it's my turn to look over you in a coma," he chuckled darkly at the irony. "It'll be just like me though…you'll get better really fast. It's all downhill from here…and I promise, that wasn't a sports joke or anything."

The squeak of the door signaled the entrance of the rest of the Jeffersonian crew. Hannah was absent.

Angela burst into tears; Hodgins ran a soothing hand over her back as he whispered soothing words. Booth couldn't hear them though as an surreal buzzing filled his ears.

Cam stepped over to him, "Hannah…gone…said…not…coming back….it's over."

"Doctor said Bones is okay," Booth spoke for the first time with the new audience. "But we're not out of the woods yet."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

**_I'm back babies! Just take care of all my problems and keep me away from the Harry Potter fan fiction and we will all be okay. A new preview has given me back my Bones mojo and I'm ready to go! So give me a review and I'll type out the rest of the story and give you more!_**

**_By the way, I had a TON of issues uploading this chapter. I had to actually edit the author note I had uploaded with the new text. Can someone update me with this uploading situation and how I can get my stuff uploaded right?  
_**


	6. Author Note Now blank, just skip

Blank, move to chapter 7.


	7. Chapter 6

_Thanks for the great response guys, I'm really glad to be back! By the way, I removed the author note and set the chapter numbers as they should. No, you aren't reading the same chapter twice!_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_In the woods…_

"What now?" Brennan sounded a bit short of breath.

She and Booth had been walking through the woods (presumably the way "out") for what seemed like hours. But then again, she had not been able to accurately judge time for quite a while. Despite the thaw at the hill, the forest was still filled to the brim with snow. Crystals of ice hung from the branches above like miniature chandeliers. Of course, there wasn't much light to refract about on what seemed to be the darkest evening of the year.

"Well," Booth paused, his head still trained straight ahead. "It's time to get you out of here."

"Which way would that be?"

He turned with a smile, "Right this way," sweeping his arm out towards his right.

There, was a clearing, a horse standing comfortably in the center. It seemed to be a bit on the small side; a harness rife with bells shimmered with an odd, ethereal luminosity that compelled her to approach. Though not surprisingly, she felt utterly at a loss for what to do at this occurrence, however, this wasn't a completely foreign feeling considering the sequence of events leading up to the present.

"Penny for your thoughts?' he stepped up next to her, a smug grin playing on his features.

She shook her head, "My thoughts are worth much more than a penny. However, I feel completely…nonplus."

"Is it a good time to say 'I don't know what this means' Bones?"

"Nonplus means to be at a loss of think, say, or do-"

"No time for SAT vocabulary," he charged up ahead of her, lifting a leg up into a stirrup.

Brennan couldn't help but notice the crazy striped socks that the left in his pant leg revealed; it seemed as if every color in the spectrum was equally represented. It was truly the details that made Booth…Booth.

"Well, are you coming or not?" he patted extra room on the saddle behind him. "We've got to get you back somehow," he placed reached his hand out palm-up to offer help.

"Is there no other way?" she reluctantly trudged over, placing her hand in his.

"Well what did you expect, your Prius?"

With a nudge of his heel, the horse galloped into the night. The crisp winter air chilled her from the inside out. Unconsciously, she scooted up closer to him and wrapped her arms tighter about his midsection.

"Duck!" he called.

She complied without question; they had nearly missed a low hanging branch. The forest was passing at an alarming rate; trees whizzed by so quickly that it was a miracle that they were still moving. Brennan leaned her head against his back, closing her eyes. She was tired; she couldn't even remember the last time she had slept. There was nothing stopping her from a small nap, right? A small sigh escaped her lips as she began to drift off…

"Whoa!"

The horse came to a sharp, sudden stop.

"Hey now," Booth reached around, patting her on the knee. "You can't fall asleep just yet. We've got just a bit more to do."

"Then why have we stopped?" she suppressed a yawn.

"Sometimes, you just have to enjoy the scenery; look around us."

The woods gave way to a frozen lake, light emanating from beneath the surface. But other than a lone, park-style bench, there was nothing nearby.

"It's…beautiful," she sat transfixed.

"Like yo-," he stopped mid-word with a sigh. "I hate to change the subject, but…I know you aren't ready. Not ready for _us_."

"We don't have to talk about this now-"

"Yes, yes we do," he said firmly. "You'll be out of here soon. So this needs to be said, and it needs to be said now."

Brennan raised her hands in surrender, but she wasn't sure he even saw her.

"I know you aren't ready, but that's okay. But you need to know, that I may not be ready. It's a stupid waiting game, and you're the white player in this game."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Chess Bones! And I believe you played it a bit in college before you realized that it took up-"

"-Valuable time that would be better dedicated to study. But I don't think we have ever discussed that," she looked over his shoulder, hoping to catch a look at his face.

"Forget I ever said it," she imagined that he smiled with that statement. "But anyway, you've got to make the move this time. I did it last time and well, I don't think it worked out too well, do you? And who knows how long Hannah will be around, maybe forever. I seem to really like her, don't I?"

"Why are you-"

"Come on Bones, we've got to look at this 'rationally' don't we?" He turned around, his face falling. "I-I, didn't know that would upset you," he swallowed heavily. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," nodding against his back. "You're right; I can't avoid this anymore. But I want you to be happy. And if that's with Hannah…then I don't know if I can or should interfere. Should your happiness take precedence over mine? Is that fair?

"You can't figure that out here. But you did figure out something worthwhile."

"That I love you." The ease at which the statement flowed from her mouth surprised her. She had come far in these woods.

Booth turned around, giving her a reassuring smile. "Yeah, that's the winner. But you're gonna have to put some thinking time on where you want to go from here. I don't know if there is a right answer, and I can't help you there."

"Why not? You've helped with everything else!" her frustration burned through her words.

"Because you already knew all those answers. As for what to do next, well…you don't know yet, so I don't know yet. But you'll figure it out…with time. This is where we get off."

Brennan dropped off the horse, the crunch of the icy snow accenting her landing. "Do you think I'll ever figure it out?"

He followed suit, dropping down on the opposite side of the horse. "That's exactly why we need to get you out of here. So you _can_ figure it out."

"Then how do I get out?"

He walked away towards the solitary bench without a response.

"Do you plan on answering?" she called after him.

"Over here!" he yelled as he settled in on the bench. He stretched out, crossing his legs at the ankles with his arms propped up lazily behind his head.

Deciding to indulge him, she sat next to him on the bench. Here, he hadn't seemed to fail her as far as the correct direct to go went. There was no logical reason to not follow his instructions.

"Remember how tired you are?" he motioned for his head for her to scoot closer.

"Yes-" she yawned.

"It's time to finally catch some z's."

"I don't know what that means…" she let her head rest upon his shoulder.

"Sleep Bones. It means sleep."

Brennan nodded against him. "I just want to be happy…"

"And you can be. Just trust yourself."

"Which part of me?" She hated to divide herself into separate "thinking" parts, but it seemed to be the best way to personify the dissent and argument within.

"Heart or brains, heart or brains…good question. Well, your brain sure is smart, but your heart knows. Let the brain do the calculating, and let your heart pull the trigger."

"That doesn't make any sense…"

"But it will. But no more thinking, just fall asleep. Don't you trust me?"

"O-Of course…Booth I-I…"

She felt his arm reach around her shoulders, moving her in a gentle rocking motion. Her breathing slowed as sleep began to subdue her. Slowly, her eyelids closed and the world around her disappeared.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_Out of the woods…_

Booth stormed out of the room, leaving the rest of the Jeffersonian crew momentarily paralyzed.

Angela broke the silence first. "Should one of us follow him or something?"

"I'll do it," Cam strode after him, pushing out into the hallway.

She poked her head out the door, looking to the left; Booth hadn't gotten too far.

"Seeley!" she called after him. "Seeley wait!"

The FBI agent seemed to heed her call, but he turned around, holding up a hand to stop her; he was on the phone.

She shook her head, crossing her arms.

"Hannah…whoa don't hang up! Look I'm sorry-" he clenched his fist. "-You know how the stress works…look I'm sorry…I know…you know me…it won't happen again…meet me back at the apartment tonight, we'll talk."

Cam couldn't help her jaw from dropping.

"You wanted me?" he looked up with a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Well H-Hannah…y-you…sorted it out?" she sputtered, truly at a loss.

"Yeah of course," he looked up in disbelief. "Hannah and I are…close. We understand one another."

"Yeah, and that's why she stormed out of here looking as if you had hell to pay. And does she know you might not be home tonight?"

"I-I may have made an offhand comment when we were heading to Bones' treatment room and I'll be able to make it home," he crossed his arms in a classic defensive pose.

"And that's all it took to set her off," she stepped a bit closer to him. "Is there something I should know about?"

"No everything is fine and it's none of your business!" Booth raised his voice, temper flaring. "Hannah is _my_ girlfriend, and mine to deal with!"

A few passersby turned to look at the feuding pair. Hospitals were never strangers to drama, but that didn't mean it wouldn't cause a stir on every occurrence. Eyes were on them.

"Seeley, people are looking," Cam said quickly in a hushed tone. "But 'deal' with, are you sure something is going on?"

He gritted his teeth, heavily slamming the side of his fist in to the wall. "Hannah and I have been having…problems. Nothing you should be concerned with though, it's just…normal relationship issues that we work out."

"Okay," she held her hands up in surrender.

"Look, uh, Bones will be okay tonight. I'm going to head home, alright?"

A look of disappointment crossed the pathologist's face. "Yeah, we can manage."

"Alright great, I'll call you tomorrow!" he took off down the hall.

Alone, Cam stepped back into the treatment room. The small room was cramped, everyone centered on the bed of Brennan. Much of the available floor space was taken up by various pieces of essential medical equipment. The rest of the room was filled with Angela, Hodgins, and Sweets.

"Where did Booth go?" Sweets spoke up.

"He went home for the evening, and he doesn't have a bad idea." Cam looked to quell the anger and disbelief on the faces of the squad. "It's late. We are only getting in the doctor's way. We can come back tomorrow morning."

Angela stepped up, giving Brennan a quick squeeze of the hand. "We'll be back."

With that, the room emptied out and the room became as silent as a snowy forest.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_Whose woods these are I think I know._

_His house is in the village, though;_

_He will not see me stopping here_

_To watch his woods fill up with snow._

_My little horse must think it queer_

_To stop without a farmhouse near_

_Between the woods and frozen lake_

_The darkest evening of the year._

_He gives his harness bells a shake_

_To ask if there is some mistake._

_The only other sound's the sweep_

_Of easy wind and downy flake._

_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,_

_But I have promises to keep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep._

_-Robert Frost_

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

"Booth..I-I…" Brennan tried to speak. Bright light streamed in through the cracks; the intense beams striking pain in the back of her head. It was as if she had just woken up.

"Dr. Wimmer, she's awake!"

"Don't panic Dr. Brennan please, you are intubated."

Everything went dark.

* * *

_There you go! And we keep moving!_

_Drop a review! They mean a lot and I love the feedback! Resist the urge to lurk my friends! _


	8. Chapter 7

_Sorry about the chapter confusion guys, nothing to worry about, but sorry about the hassle it caused._

_Thank you for all the reviews! If I didn't reply to your review sorry I missed it. Typically, I reply via the URL provided in the email ping I get, but those have been broken lately so I have to do it from the review page, etc. Anyway, here we go! Talk about that finale eh?_

_By the way, for those who were taken up in the rapture tonight, I'm sorry you won't see how this ends. Though luckily, I am a heretic and am still here! Lucky you! _

**FYI, just had another updating issue where Chapter 6 got replaced with this chapter. It is being fixed right now and the chapters will all be here in the right order.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_Out of the woods…_

"Booth..I-I…" Brennan tried to speak. Bright light streamed in through the cracks; the intense beams striking pain in the back of her head. It was as if she had just woken up.

"Dr. Wimmer, she's awake!"

"Don't panic Dr. Brennan please, you are intubated."

Everything went dark.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

Brennan opened her eyes, the harsh fluorescent glare burned on her retinas as her irises struggled to compensate after a long time in the dark. The dim of the woods seemed to be long gone. Breathing was easy, and she noted an oxygen tube feeding in below her nose.

"Welcome back. Are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

She shook her head, trying to look around the room.

"Well my name is Dr. Wimmer, and this," he pulled over a woman, "is Megan, and she will also be assisting in your recovery."

Finally, she got a good look at the pair. Wimmer was young, but she couldn't place is age correctly. Perhaps mid thirties? Megan looked equally youthful, dressed in bright magenta scrubs. Her hair was red, tied back in a ponytail. Angela would have said that her clothing clashed with her hair. Angela? Was she? She was here, not _there_.

"You're at Washington Hospital Center. You were in accident. You have been in a coma for just about three days now, but you woke up yesterday, before losing consciousness…until now. I have to say, it's excellent that you woke up now, your brain activity levels during your coma were…interesting to say the least. But we don't have to talk about that now. Are you in pain?" He held up a chart with ten drawn faces, each exhibiting a different level of discomfort. "Can you tell me which face is most like you?"

She nodded, trying to process. Was she "out?" Is this where Booth wanted to have her end up? Booth, who she loved. Shakily, she rose a hand to one of the faces.

"Megan is doing to set you up with intravenous pain medication since you are in pain; we'll take care of that discomfort right away."

Brennan registered shuffling around; the pain went away immediately like a light switch had been flipped.

"Any better?"

She nodded feebly, still looking around.

"Megan, please note that she seems extremely disoriented," Wimmer said mutedly before turning back to Brennan. "I'm going to ask you a few questions; do you feel up to that?"

She nodded. It felt as if all she had done after opening her eyes was do this.

"Do you know what city we are in?"

"Washington D.C.," she answered tentatively. He had already said that they were at Washington Hospital Center so the answer was easy though to deduce.

"Very good! Do you remember what you do for a living?"

_She could easily recall the first bone she had ever dropped. She was a graduate student who held the bones in the very same esteem as she held them today. But as her work piled up, she was forced to work later and later hours. As exhaustion took its toll, so did her concentration and coordination. One evening, as she felt her head nod forward in a want for sleep, the skull she was working with slid from her grip._

"I-I'm a forensic anthropologist. I work with bones."

"Excellent! And do you know your name?"

For whatever reason, this question stumped her like none of the others.

_"You know Bones, you might want to bundle up; it's pretty chilly out here, what with the snow and all."_

"Bones."

An odd look passed over Wimmer's face as he turned to look at Megan. Although she was comatose, that in no way implied that she was hard of hearing, mute, or visually impaired.

"Wasn't 'Bones' what the FBI Agent always calls her?" Megan whispered with no effort to avoid Brennan from hearing.

The doctor nodded. "Bones-"

"Only he calls me that."

"Who?"

"Booth."

"Well, are you sure you don't remember your given name?"

She racked her considerably large brain; like she was shifting through filing cabinets worth of information alone. Not to mention that some of the cabinets were damaged, locked, or knocked about. All of this is more difficult when the filing system seems to be completely disturbed.

"Brennan? T-Temperance Brennan." Coming to that conclusion was much more difficult then she knew it should have been. But she was in no condition to truly ponder the meaning of that.

"Well then Temperance, you don't mind if I call you that do you?" The doctor gave a kind smile.

She shook her head.

"Well then, you've got quite a few friends a family waiting to come see you. Would you like to see them?"

"Is Booth _there_?"

"I'm not sure," Wimmer took a step towards the door, "but we'll see. Your friends will come in groups of two. I don't want you to be overwhelmed."

Wimmer pulled Megan out of the room with him.

Booth had to be here. He was right there before. She had to talk to him as soon as possible. She had to tell him, now. After all, isn't that what he wanted? He wanted to get her out and here she was. Here it was so bright; there was nowhere to hide.

"Tempe?" Two grown men stepped into the room. "Do you know who we are? The doc said you are a bit off right now. Since you've been in a coma, I can't blame you."

"Of course," Brennan squinted at the two, going back through her mental filing cabinets. How damaged was she? "D-Dad? Russ?"

Russ nodded, looking down at her with a smile.

"H-How did you know?"

"Booth called me," Max patted her hand gently, noting how she perked up at the mention of her partner's name. "But you've got your whole posse out in the hall waiting to see you."

"I don't believe I have a posse. I'm an anthropologist, not a sheriff. But Booth is _here_?"

"That's my daughter. I think Booth is here," he gave her a firm, but gentle, pat on the hand. "Russ and I can catch up with you later."

The two men tip-toed out of the room as if they were afraid that she could shatter with the vibrations of heavy steps. This was of course preposterous, even considering that she had just woken up from a coma and went from there to here. She didn't even know the full extent of her injuries or how she ended up in the woods in the first place. But yet, she couldn't find the energy or the curiosity to know precisely then.

"Sweetie!"

Two new figures exploded into the room. The female ran up to the bed, before stopping abruptly as if she suddenly remembered Brennan's fragile medical condition.

"Do you know who we are Dr. B?" The curly-haired man gave a hopeful smile.

"Angela," Brenan immediately identified, before turning her attention to the man. "H-Hodgins?"

"See, I hold you she'd be alright," Hodgins squeezed Angela around the shoulders, pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it into one of his wife's hands. "The doctors are going to take great care of her!" he reassured.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay?" Angela reached out, taking Brennan's hand.

While this was certainly a very appropriate question to ask, Brennan couldn't help but feel as if it was an odd question to ask. After all, they most likely knew more about the physical effects of whatever trauma she sustained and whether not she was 'okay' or not. But, the question was most likely just asked out of politeness; that was something that Angela was prone to do, right?

"Well, I am no longer in pain due as Dr. Simmer-"

"Wimmer," he corrected.

"-Wimmer seems to have me on an adequate dose of pain medication and I feel okay. But I do feel a bit numb."

"Well that's great," the artist nudged the entomologist, "isn't it?"

An odd looked passed from Angela to Hodgins, much like the one that Wimmer exhibited. Brennan knew that she was acting in one hundred percent accordance with how she acted _there_.

"We're just happy that you're okay," he nodded. "Do you want us to sit with you for a bit? I know Cam and Sweets are outside too-"

"What about Booth?" Brennan looked towards the door.

"We can get him if you'd like."

"I'd like that."

"Glad you're doing alright," the pair slipped out.

Brennan could only think about how she was going to see Booth again. It seemed like ages since she had last seen him, but she knew it hadn't truly been long. They had things to discuss; she had things to say.

"Bones?" Booth stuck his head in the door.

"Booth?" She couldn't suppress a grin.

"I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I should have been with you that night and I would have been driving, and none of this would have happened in the first place-"

"What are you talking about?" She was genuinely confused.

"Y-You don't know what happened?" He seemed to be mildly astonished.

She just looked at him.

"I guess they haven't told you yet for a reason," he dragged a chair up to her bedside before sitting down. "After my brain surgery I didn't have the story straight for weeks."

She had the courage to tell him. She had to tell him. She should have told him a long time ago.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," she blurted out.

His jaw slacked and he gulped nervously. His eyes were wide open.

"Bones…I-I-"

"Temperance, I think that's enough for today," Megan stepped into the room. "You need your sleep so you can recover."

"You're calling her Temperance?" Booth jumped to his feet hastily.

"Why wouldn't she?" Brennan asked. "It is my name."

"But no one every calls you Temperance."

The nurse leaned over to Booth, whispering something before shuffling him out of the room. She then turned her attention back to her. "Are you comfortable?"

She nodded.

"Hungry?'

She shook her head.

"Well then, I'm going to give you a very mild sedative that should help you fall asleep. Your friends and family will be here to see you again when you wake up. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Megan moved towards the intravenous drip. "Sweet dreams."

She closed her eyes.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

"Okay, it wasn't just me that thought that Bren was really off? She was talking the same…but it just didn't seem right to me." Angela paced.

"No, she seemed really out of it," Russ chimed in.

"Angie," Hodgins moved to still her restless movement. "Don't you remember how Booth was when he came out of his coma? He thought we all worked at a nightclub and that he was married to-"

Booth shot him an icy glare.

"-Well…in summary, it took him some time to get his bearings back and now Mr. Federal Agent here is just fine," he cupped her jaw, bringing her eyes to his. "She's a fighter. She'll pull out okay."

"She wasn't alright when I was in there," Booth stood up. "She was talking…"

"What did she say?" Angela looked over.

"…It doesn't matter. It just…she wasn't saying things that she would ever say."

"She still has a long road back."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_In the woods…_

"You shouldn't have come back," Booth walked up slowly to her, every footstep accented by the accumulated snow.

"I couldn't help it," Brennan crossed her arms.

"I told you not to come back. This isn't a good place for you anymore."

"I won't be here long," she looked around the frozen wood. It was just as she had left it.

"You need to leave, now."

"I told you," she said abruptly, looking down at her now snowy shoes. "You didn't seem to take it well."

"I told you that you'd have to figure it out. It's not just saying the words; it's showing that you mean them. And there's Hannah. Did you really think it would be that easy?"

The truth was she had.

* * *

_Not out of the woods yet (pun intended). I hope you enjoyed this installment. Please leave a review! I love to hear what you think and I always fight it delightful to see where you think the story is going. Resist the urge to lurk! Until next time!_


	9. Chapter 8

_Is anyone still following this? I've had...issues lately. Details are on my user profile page thing if you want to know. I'm sorry, I really couldn't help the inconsistency of late._

_Out of the woods..._

* * *

"Well Temperance, how would you say you feel as compared to two days ago when you woke up?" Dr. Wimmer poked and prodded her incessantly. He checked her vitals and absorbed himself in the task of taking incredibly detailed notes of her condition.

"Better," Brennan simply watched him move about.

"Agent Booth insists that you would want to know the full extent and details of your injuries."

She wasn't sure whether this was a question or not, so she simply allowed him to continue what he was doing. The statement was odd in itself; it seemed to warrant a response. She knew she had damage to her ribs, as well as soft tissue damage on her right leg especially. But she hadn't yet looked in a mirror to survey it for herself. There couldn't be brain damage; she was functioning normally, after all.

"Would you like to know the exacts as to your injuries?"

"Would knowing aid in my recovery or expedite it in any way, shape or fashion?"

Wimmer's lips tightened to a fine line as if in disappointment, but his eyes remained kind and caring. "I don't believe it would Temperance."

Brennan was not surprised at all by this answer. After all, she was a doctor, and a highly accomplished one at that. But she still couldn't figure out why Wimmer had mentioned Booth. She hadn't seen him for...well, two days now since that first visit. She asked about him frequently; either Hodgins, Angela, Cam, Sweets, or one of interns were in her room at all times. But whenever she asked, they always said he had been by as she slept, and never in a fully assuring voice.

"Temperance, I'm just about finished. But, I'm going to have Megan take you down to radiology and we are going to take an MRI of your brain."

"Is there danger of brain damage?" she looked up as the doctor waved the nurse in.

"Well," he pulled a few levers, preparing her bed for rolling movement, "you did experience a traumatic brain injury as a result of the crash; it caused you to fall into a coma. There was swelling, but we were able to manage it well. However, we do need a point of comparison to the MRI that we took while you were still comatose."

"Once we measure how your brain is doing, we can start you in physical therapy and get you walking again," Megan chimed in, pulling her bed off from the wall and towards the door.

The two medical personnel carted her down the hall towards the elevator.

Brennan's stay in the hospital had been extremely uneventful. She had never particularly cared for hospitals, but then again, who did? It was the boredom, the long hours of being stationary, staring at the same wall that truly got to her. But a seemingly everlasting stream of visitors bearing time-wasters, anthropology journals, and books helped keep her occupied.

But she really just wanted to see Booth.

"Brennan!"

She swung her head over her shoulder, attempting to see who had called her name.

Cam jogged up alongside her bed as Wimmer stopped to call the elevator. "Hey, I just checked your room."

"MRI," she responded simply.

"Well I'm going to meet Booth at the diner for lunch. Should I pick up something small for you?"

Brennan shook her head.

"Do you want me to bring any limbo files by for you?"

Her friends must have really been feeling concerned for her if they offered her work (which they specifically told her that they would avoid providing her with), and Cam was willing to refer to bone storage as "limbo."

"No, but tell Booth he should come by while I'm awake."

The pathologist put a hand on her shoulder in a kind gesture, smiling sadly, "I will."

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

"She clearly has noticed that you haven't been there to visit her since she woke up," Cam shook her head in exasperation, stirring the straw in her Diet Coke absent mindlessly. "Brennan was in a coma; she isn't stupid or oblivious. The team is trying their best to cover it up but she just wants to see you."

"I have just been so busy..." Booth didn't look up.

"With what? No new cases, especially with the the Medico-Legal lab paralyzed by Dr. Brennan's injury. You haven't had Parker; all that you have is Hannah."

"All I have?" he practically growled. He was acting like a cornered animal, raising his defenses at the perceived attack.

"Well since you two jumped that issue you had at the hospital," she backtracked, not wishing to offend him. This would end any chance at dialogue.

"We didn't _jump_ any issue."

"What, you don't consider an 'I love you' an issue?" Cam folded her arms.

The FBI agent furrowed his brow, "How could you possibly know about that?" His voice had an odd aggressive edge to it.

"Seeley," she took a second to make direct eye contact. "We were standing right outside the room. Angela literally had her ear pressed to the crack between the door and the wall. _Everyone _heard _everything_, and we're worried about how you're taking it."

This knowledge seemed to only upset Booth further. "It's only three words. She didn't mean anything by it."

"Can you really just write it off that easily? But...I guess you're the expert."

"What do you mean by that?"

She shrugged, "If I remember correctly, you felt a lot like Brennan seems to when you came out of your coma. And seeing how things played out, looks like not acting on that first instinct of loving feelings worked out."

Booth seemed to literally chew this idea over, placing a few ketchup-saturated fries in his mouth before masticating thoughtfully.

"If anything, just visit her," Cam leaned over the table. "She's recovering, we don't know what kind of brain damage, if any, she has suffered. It would make her day, and while you sort out..." she looked sharply to the diner's door; a short ding signaled the entrance of a new person, "...your business." Quickly after finishing, she plastered on a smile.

He turned to see what caused such an unusual turn in her demeanor.

"Hannah! Good to see you again!" she spoke with the classic positive-forced voice she took on during their work.

"Same to you," the reporter's hands came to rest on Booth's shoulders. "I was hoping to catch the end of the classic Jeffersonian lunch, especially now that Dr. Brennan is doing better."

"I-I'm actually about to go visit her now with Cam," he smiled, looking up at the woman behind him.

"But you've been there every day, a few times a day."

To this, Cam couldn't help but to raise her eyebrows in surprise. Not only had Booth not been to visit, but he head lied to his girlfriend about it. Something was up, and she still couldn't seem to place it. Well, not yet at least; years of forensic training typically led her to the correct conclusion.

"Oh, well I guess I'll just grab a bite and see you tonight then," the blonde dropped to the table as the pair stood.

"Yeah..."

The pair walked out of the diner in silence. Cam stopped them at the curb, giving Booth's arm a firm squeeze. "I can't visit; I am needed back at the Jeffersonian. Go visit, and I'll know if you weren't there. Get your priorities straightened out. You're running from your problems with Brennan and with Hannah and it isn't like you. Eventually you have to turn around and face whatever or whoever is giving you issues."

With that, she stormed off.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

Booth walked down the sterile, hospital halls he had not been in for a few days now. The sickly smell of antiseptic always make him feel unnaturally uneasy. Medical centers weren't his turf; same with the Jeffersonian forensic platform. While he could feel comfortable and at ease, he never seemed to know the exact lay of the land and because of this, never felt as if he were always on firm footing. And considering the unknown situation he was walking in to, there feelings were not out of place.

But it wasn't his fault...well, fully. Hearing the last thee words he had ever expected to hear Bones say, after he had agreed with himself to give up an move on, was jarring to say the least. And then, once the Hannah situation was layered on top, it was quite the pill to swallow.

Hands in his pockets, he stepped up to the nurses station. "I'm looking for Temperance Brennan."

"Are you family?" the nurse didn't even look up at him.

"Well..." there was a time a few months ago where the answer would have been a strong, confident 'yes,' but clearly not now, "...I'm a friend."

"Family only sir, sorry."

"If you could just tell me where she is-"

"Family only."

Clearly it was time to change tactics. And being the trained and handsome FBI agent that he was, he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

Booth paused, smiling slightly, "Actually, we're partners."

The nurse didn't look up.

"Work partners, but very close. She is a forensic anthropologist for the Jeffersonian, and I am her FBI agent partner. Did I mention that I work for the FBI?"

This seemed to catch her attention, and she afforded him an upward glance.

He pulled out his badge, "We have to discuss some..important business. Not to mention that I know for a fact that some of her visitors have not been family members."

The stoic woman quirked an eyebrow. It was painstaking just to get small responses out of her!

"The people that work with Dr. Brennan are her family. It's not a normal kind of family, but that's what she's got and I know she would agree. So what do you say? Tell me where she is?"

She smiled. Finally, he had broken through here icy facade! She pointed him down the hallway, and gave the specific instructions as to getting to her new rehabilitation room. "Oh, and she might not be in there now; she has an MRI scheduled."

Booth murmured a thanks, and set off. The whole family thing...yeah, it was merely a strategy to get what he wanted (namely to visit Bones), but it was true also. The farther her walked down the hall, the more he realized that he hadn't been part of this 'family' ever since Hannah became his focus. In fact, he had probably done more damage, than an absence of doing good. The farther he walked, the more he had the urge to run.

Not literally of course, but merely to skirt away and pretend that he was never there. If Cam where to check around, the nurse would have seen him...he could just say that Bones was getting here MRI done, and he couldn't find the room for the life of him. Yes...that could work.

But before these thoughts had the opportunity to form any sort of action, he found himself at her door. He knocked lightly and peered his head in, "Bones?"

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

"Bones?"

Brennan's head snapped up from the magazine she was reading. Of course, she was more flipping through the conglomeration of fashion pictures; Angela gave her a few and insisted that she catch up on the latest "news." Hodgins slipped a copy of _The Economist_ in with the magazines so she could really catch up on the news. But with the boredom of the hospital, the overly colorful fashion magazines held her interest.

"I thought you were supposed to be getting at MRI..." Booth twisted and wrung his hands nervously; uncharacteristically so.

"I was pushed back for someone who needed it more urgently."

"Oh..." he still stood in the doorway. "Can I come in?"

"I wasn't aware you needed an invitation."

He stepped in, taking a seat at her bedside. "I'm sorry that I haven't been around...while you were awake," he finished quickly.

The fact that he had not been here at all hung in the air, unsaid but understood.

"Can we just forget and move on?" he gave her a classic Booth smile.

"To forget on command would be impossible," she smiled, hoping that this would successfully indicate her joking manner, "but I think to move on is entirely possible."

He grinned, "Then first, why the heck are you reading that magazine?"

"Oh, Angela gave it to me."

The conversation slowly but surely fell into the usual fluidity that they had before. They chatted about the news, the weather, but nothing really of consequence. Part of Brennan was glad for the idle chit chat, but she still remained confused. Booth hadn't visited since she had first awoken. And as she had worked out while she was _there_, she had to show him her feelings. So growing back together seemed to be an easy and logical first step.

But then, there was Hannah. Booth hadn't mentioned her, but then again, she hadn't really expected him to. If he decided to stay with her, what would she do? Live with his decision? Tell him how she felt anyway? Leave the area? But this didn't seem to be an issue that she could deal with at the moment.

"How is Hannah?" Brennan blurted out. She was curious, and it seemed like a good topic to keep the conversation alive.

"Hannah, oh she's fine."

"Busy with her job with the press corps?" she pressed.

"Yeah...I guess. But, we're sort of on rocky ground with each other you know?"

She didn't know. But she couldn't help feeling a small bit of happiness at this misfortune. Well, Angela had said that by revealing details, one reveals themselves. Perhaps this was a good sign.

"I'm sorry to hear about that."

"Yeah, me too," he smiled weakly.

They sat in silence.

"Temperance?" A nurse in scrubs leaned in. "They are ready for you now in radiology. We're gonna wheel you down." She waved in another nurse to move her bed out.

Brennan nodded, and turned back to Booth. "When will I see you again?"

"Soon," he stepped out of the medical personnel's way.

"Soon is a relative term."

"Tomorrow then," he called as they moved her down the hall.

She couldn't turn to wave goodbye as she was quickly shuffled into an extra large elevator and moved down to a lower level. She was checked for metal, then helped on to the the table.

One of the radiology nurses came up on her side, "It's going to get a bit loud when we turn this thing on. Do you want earplugs? You're going to be in there for about an hour. A lot of patients fall asleep. Also, have you experienced, or do you regularly experience feelings of claustrophobia?"

"No, I do not experience irrational fear of small, enclosed spaces. I will take earplugs," she accepted the plastic bag, ripping it open. She rolled the foam plugs between her fingers before inserting them in her ears.

"Just lie still and it will be over before you know it!"

An electrical hum began as the MRI's platform pulled her into the tube.

"Temperance, can you here us?" It was one of the nurses over a loudspeaker in the room. Though it was a bit muffled by her earplugs.

"Yes."

"We're going to turn the machine on now. It's gonna get a bit loud, but please don't move at all."

Brennan didn't reply, but merely listened as the machine began to clunk as it fired up it's powerful magnetic field. She closed her eyes, determined to relax. Breathing deeply, she allowed herself to fall asleep.

**- - - - - - - - - -B&B- - - - - - - - - -**

_In the woods..._

"Bones, you need to stop this," Booth shook his head, raising his head from his hands. He was seated on a snow covered tree stump in a clearing of the woods. "It isn't good for you. And I want what's best for you, so that isn't this."

"I won't be here long," Brennan said, not facing him, but instead enjoying the crisp air.

"That's what you said last time," he stood, closing the distance. "And yeah, you weren't here long, but now you're back."

"You visited today," she looked up at him.

"Then why do you need me here?"

"You're still...distant."

"I don't know what's up with me."

She couldn't help but smile at how utterly nonsensical this sounded. "Not even a vague idea?"

"The only way to find out is talk to me, and not here."

"It's easier here," she shrugged.

"When have you been someone who looked for the easy way out."

This struck her; was she acting like herself? "Am I still that person?"

"What could have possibly made you change?"

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed that! Please leave a review! Resist the urge to lurk! Truly, the reviews spur me to keep writing, and I would like to once again apologize for the wait. Like I said, details on my random hiatus are on my profile page. Until next time (which won't be nearly as long as this time)!_


	10. Chapter 9

"_When have you been someone who looked for the easy way out._"

_This struck her; was she acting like herself? Am I still that person?_"

"_What could have possibly made you change?_"

* * *

_Out of the woods..._

Booth rubbed his eyes. He told her he would see her tomorrow. He _promised_essentially that he would be there tomorrow. Well tomorrow had come and he still felt apprehensive about going. Booth was running; plain and simple. While he acknowledged his fact he tried not to confront it in himself, running from that also. In a way, this was much easier.

Bones made everything different with just three words. With those three words she flipped a balanced pyramid on to its head where it would precariously balance for a few seconds before falling to a side. Which side and which outcome however was uncertain.

Mustering his courage, Booth swung his legs over the side of the bed, his toes feeling for the carpeted ground. As it was a Saturday with no case work to do, he pulled on an FBI t-shirt and matching hoodie to face the day along with one of his favorite pairs of jeans. Sufficiently comfortable, he paused to make coffee and poured the black drink carefully to the brim of a travel mug.

Leaving his apartment, he felt the characteristic single vibrate of his phone; it was a text message. Booth hit the ground floor elevator button and closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. There was another matter he was ignoring: Hannah.

Pulling out his phone, he stole a glance at the screen. It wasn't Hannah. He let loose an audible sound of relief. It was, however, Cam. Muttering a passing hope to God that this wasn't a new case, he opened the text message.

_"Bren doing really well, Angela got a call from the doctor and told me to tell you. They want her to gain some weight for her recovery."_

Booth squinted at the playground-like "so and so told me to tell you that so and so said" odd path of the conversation puzzled him. Sure, Angela had been a bit miffed about his attitude towards Bones' injury, but to come to this?

Quickly, he texted a reply. _"Yeah, I'm heading over there right now."_

He didn't have to wait long for the reply. _"Really?"_

Only the ding of the elevator pulled him out of his thoughts as he headed towards his FBI-issue car.

_"Yes really. I'm walking to my car."_

It shocked him deeply the loss of faith this...inconsistency in seeing Bones. It was like the little Jeffersonian Medio-Legal Lab circle saw him as some Benedict Arnold or some nonsense. At least he hadn't reached the level of his direct decedent John Wilkes Booth; a likeness which Bones was quick to point out on one of their first meetings.

Booth paused to think back to that alcove kiss, sheltered from the rain. Boy he taken a risk there, he smiled at the thought of that moment wishing he could capture that again...without Bones pushing him away that is.

He was the gambler; it was time to take a chance that this would go well.

He was going to go visit Bones.

* * *

"Your MRI was remarkably normal," Wimmer looked over the scans again. "You have progressed fantastically in physical therapy...you're injuries are healing well. Everything is going remarkably in your favor! Quite frankly, had a not known better, I could have assumed you hadn't suffered cranial trauma in the slightest."

A week had passed since her MRI and Booth's visit. And as promised, he had visited the next day, and every day after. For the first time, life seemed to fall back into a familiar cadence that it hadn't since the accident. Things could be predicted; meals at a consistent time, nurse visits, friends bringing scientific journals. Things were logical and with reason. Just as she was supposed to like things. But yet, a sort of monotony had set in with this cyclical rhythm. Hospital walls don't change. They don't blink for birth or death. Unfortunately, hospital food takes on much the same manner, especially when one is on a vegetarian course.

"I'll be completely honest Temperance, your recovery has been extraordinary so far. If someone had suggested to me that someone's recovery could be like this in med school, I wouldn't have believed them. Not in a million years."

Brennan nodded, skipping the social interaction in which she would ask for clarification on what his colloquialism meant exactly.

"And with that great recovery, we're ready to begin moving you into physical therapy to get you walking again. From what me and the nurse team has seen, you don't seem to be having any motor difficulties, but sometimes, those have a way of revealing themselves when we get you walking."

"Is that all doctor?"

Wimmer dropped her clipboard to the bedside table. "That's about it for today Temperance, be ready for physical therapy tomorrow. Depending on how your first session goes, be ready to do that for a few hours a day. We want you as fit as possible, as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, as always," he smiled and bid goodbye.

Left alone with only her thoughts, Brennan's attention turned again to where it had been lingering for quite some time: Booth. Infatuation of the romantic type certainly was a funny thing. No matter what she was doing from reading an anthropological journal, watching the news, or speaking with a visitor, Booth continually returned to her thoughts.

Of course, she thought of him often before she had the opportunity to walk through The Woods in the crisp winter air laced with clarity. But her thoughts seldom reached this point before she would violently stamp it out like a fledgling fire before it could catch. Fire was catching, and this is how her love for Booth now seemed to inflame her entire consciousness. Once a tiny controlled flame in an oil lamp, it now raged within her, warming her and creating an oddly full sensation.

People were born whole and fully able to be self-sufficient; she knew this well both from studies and from personal experience. Despite this logical assessment, the part of her that enjoyed the crisp night air of the forest wanted deeply to follow this inclination. Then again, she didn't think to address the human animal as that of a heterozygous nature.

Brennan leaned back into the adjustable bed, half willing herself to sink through into the mattress despite the actual impossibility of the event.

"Bones?"

She looked up to see Booth leaning through the doorway.

"Mind if I come in?"

Trying not to look incredibly eager as this would cause a power imbalance socially and tip the scales in his favor (not psychology, but an anthropological fact), she nodded slowly and motioned him in. Unfortunately, this earned her an odd look of concern. Perhaps the deliberateness implied lingering trauma from the accident, and the last thing she wanted was him to address her in a manner that he would write her off as not in her right mind.

"Of course not," Brennan smiled.

"Told you I'd be here to visit today."

"I didn't have any reason to doubt your promise. You are historically steadfast in such affirmations."

Booth shrugged, pulling up a chair from the corner of the room. "Not always."

Sensing his intention to continue, she nodded, urging him on.

"But I'd like to try to fix that," he twisted his hand in his lap. "First by visiting you."

"Has there been an indication that you have been lax in this action?"

"Yeah, yeah there has been." Booth shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it's just...I haven't been such a great friend is all. I've...well, been avoiding you since-"

"-I woke up."

The two looked around in silence, no quite meeting the other's eyes. The subject of apprehension had been breached at last. The mastodon in the corner had its poor concealment pulled off, barring it clearly to all eyes.

"Yeah…" Booth trailed off. "I-I don't know how to say this. You know I'm more of an action guy." He paused, looking down. "Why don't we start this over again? Forget about me being a jerk recently, and we move on."

Forget? In a way, his actions had defined her recent waking history. Would letting go allow her to move on? Had she become dependent? Was that even in her nature?

Sometimes one must stand alone to be sure that one can still stand at all.

_"What could have possibly made you change?"_

Change could be a choice, couldn't it? Brennan controlled her thoughts, her thoughts controlled her feelings, ergo she controlled her feelings. Perhaps a tabula rasa was what was needed her; a slate blank and clear, like shimmering untouched snow in the woods.

"I think we can do that," she forced a smile, ignoring the odd weight she felt in the middle of her chest cavity centered around her heart.

Booth replied with a genuine smile, one that reached all the way up to his eyes. Angela had mentioned this before that someone truly happy smiles with their eyes. Brennan never understood this; wasn't smiling just a movement of the mouth?

"That's awesome Bones."

The door to the room swung inward, a nurse Brennan didn't recognize walked in.

"Megan's not in yet today, but I've got you covered for lunch," the nurse wheeled in a dining cart.

After checking a few labels, the woman pulled out a tray, sliding it in front of the anthropologist.

Booth perked up at the sight, "Hey, you don't happen to have any of those great puddings do you?"

The nurse nodded, "Yes, why?"

"Oh, well Bones here-"

She gave him an odd look.

"_Temperance_ loves them. Mind leaving a few for her? She is supposed to be gaining some weight for her recovery."

She shrugged, dropping a few and heading out the door. "Don't make yourself sick on these Temperance, okay?"

Brennan shot him a cross look, "Why did you do that?"

"Oh come on Bones, you know I love hospital pudding!" He grabbed for one, stealing the spoon off her tray and shoveling a heaping spoonful into his mouth. "Mmm, God that's so good. Why don't they sell this stuff in the stores?"

"How did you know that I needed to gain weight?"

"Angela told Cam who texted me," he let out through a mouthful of pudding. A bit of it dribbled out, but was quickly wiped up by a single finger.

Brennan honestly did not know what to think of this. The idea that we was debated and discussed behind her back, well, it didn't surprise her too much, but she couldn't halt an unsettled feeling from wrapping around her.

"I know I haven't been _here_, but I have still been keeping tabs on you. I care Bones." He put down the pudding to look her in the eyes. "I'm back, and I'm ready to make this partnership work."

"I'm getting tired," she said a bit too quickly. "Would you mind giving me space to rest?"

"Sure, I'm going to stay here…if you don't mind though."

"Of course not," Brennan slid down in bed, pushing the food laden tray away. She forced her eyes shut, staying still until she eventually drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_Woods?_

"I just don't know what to do…"

Brennan heard Booth's voice filter through.

"Here I am running when I'm supposed to be here…" he groaned.

"I just don't know where we stand anymore."

"You said you loved me. Did you mean it?"

"Yeah, when I came out of a coma I said the same thing. Did I mean it?"

"I said it, so I had to mean it."

"Wait, that's not right."

"I've lied before."

"Damn it Bones."

* * *

**Bit on the short side, but I wanted to get it out and move on.**

**Reviews would be lovely and extremely motivational as I work towards my goal of finishing this story.**


	11. Chapter 10

_Out of the Woods…_

Booth dropped his head into his hands, fingers digging into his forehead causing prickles of pain. Dull colors flashed beneath his eyelids in swirling funnels of smoke. Despite closing his eyes, the feeling that he would utterly screw everything up was unavoidable.

"I just don't know what to do Bones. And I know it's kind of stupid talking to you when you're asleep and can't hear me."

He gave her a glance to be sure his voice hadn't caused her to stir. He would hate to have to feel badly about waking her up when she clearly needed the rest.

"Here I am running when I'm supposed to be here the gambler brave-man and all."

Giving a sizeable sigh, Booth rolled his neck, forcing his shoulders down into a semi-relaxed state.

"I just don't know where we stand anymore. You said you loved me. Did you mean it?"

He looked down at his feet, shuffling them a bit against the tiled hospital floor.

"Yeah, when I came out of a coma I said the same thing. Did I mean it?"

Booth shook his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here he was, having a conversation with Bones, who just came out of a coma, now sleeping, and couldn't hear him.

"I said it, so I had to mean it."

His mouth had formed the words alright.

"Wait, that's not right."

If everything he said was true, well then Santa and the Easter Bunny had some explaining to do for Parker. And this was before the kid had hair growing under his arms.

"I've lied before."

Not able to take it anymore, Booth headed for the door. After all, she was asleep.

"Damn it Bones," he muttered before opening the door, and closing it quietly behind him.

He headed straight for the parking lot, setting a brisk walking pace. Why did they have to keep the parking lots so far away from the building? He navigated the corridors the ever confusing signs, side-stepping gurneys and weeping families at what seemed like every turn. Finally he made it outside. The air was fresh, and lacked the reek of sickness he always hated in medical facilities.

The ring of his phone broke this simple enjoyment.

"Special Agent Booth," he answered without looking at the caller ID.

"It's Cam, we've got a case."

A grimace crossed his features, "But Bones isn't out of the hospital yet."

"I can't control when the police find badly decomposed bodies in the ground. And if I could, I guarantee I would never be called off my vacations for work…I'm texting you the address."

Booth slid into his car, flipping the call to speaker and glancing at the incoming text from Cam. It was in Northeast D.C., and not a great neighborhood at that. "I'm getting in my car now, I was visiting Bones. Can we do the crime scene investigation and then hold the forensic stuff until we get Bones in the lab?"

"Why?"

"Come on Cam," he started the car, "the body has probably been in the ground for months. We can easily take a few weeks to get the team ready and firing on all cylinders again."

"That might take more than a few weeks with Dr. Brennan's injuries." She paused. "Look, I know you don't want to go on without her, I get that, I really do. But she wouldn't want our work to stop on her account."

"Don't try to guess what she would want," a bit of strain edged into his voice as he pulled out of the lot.

"Look, I'm meeting you at the scene, and I'm bringing Hodgins and Mr. Bray. We can do this without Brennan. I'll see you there." Cam hung up.

"No we can't," he muttered into the dead line.

* * *

Traffic in the Washington D.C. Metro area was surprisingly light as Booth navigated his way to the scene. God seemed to be smiling upon him today. Seeing the D.C. Police blockade further up the street, he pulled his badge out of his jacket and rolled down his window.

"This is a crime scene-"

"Exactly why I'm here," he flashed his badge.

The female officer nodded. "Officer Shane. The scene is a bit further up; the blockade has the place surrounded two blocks around. Not exactly the best neighborhood and all."

Booth nodded in assent, as he slid from his car. He broke into a brisk pace, charging in front of Shane.

She jogged up to him, "The body was discovered-"

"No offense, but I'll take the briefing from my people."

"Someone's touchy," she stopped as he continued pressing forward.

The Officer was right, not exactly the best neighborhood, then again, a lot of D.C. wasn't the greatest. The crime scene encompassed area was all single family homes generally in modest disrepair. In one of the front yards, the familiar sight of the blue Jeffersonian field work jumpsuits drew him in.

"What are we dealing with?"

"Hello to you too," Cam stood up from a crouched position over the body. "Body was discovered this morning, dug up by some neighborhood dogs."

"I've already checked them for particulate matter," Hodgins interjected.

"And pretty recently dead too by the look of him," Cam cut back in.

Booth took a few steps closer to the body, "What do we have on him?"

"Looks to be Caucasian male in his mid-twenties, about five-eight for height. Still pretty fleshy, so Dr. Brennan wouldn't have been pleased anyway."

He visibly tensed at the mention of her name.

"Judging by witnesses, he was buried just a day or two ago, but rate of decomposition suggests otherwise."

"Something might have been speeding it up," Wendell walked over.

Hodgins smiled, rubbing his hands together, "We'll I'll be sure to check it out when we get back to the lab. I already have ample soil samples."

"Great," the FBI Agent took a few steps back. "Send it all back to the lab, blah blah blah, call me if you have any developments," he began the walk back to his car.

"Where are you going," Hodgins took a step or two after him.

"Lunch date. I've got nothing else to do here."

* * *

"I thought you said you didn't have to work this Saturday?" Hannah raised an eyebrow as Booth slid into the chair across from her.

He frowned, "I didn't, but dead bodies love to show up when I have other plans."

"I ordered for you by the way."

"Great."

She seemed to sense his uneasiness, "Probably weird going to the scene of a crime without your partner there."

"Yeah…" he looked down at the table, fiddling with the sugar packet container.

"I know she's going through a lot with her injuries."

"Not even half of the issue," he shook his head and looked up at her. He could see in her eyes she wanted him to continue; to spill his guts and commit emotionally, and etcetera.

When he didn't continue, Hannah sat back in her chair, arms crossed. "Why won't you tell me these sorts of things?"

"It's not that at all-"

"Well you have to be talking to someone. Is it Dr. Sweets?"

"No," he said a bit too strongly, catching her aback in the flare of emotion.

"There's nothing wrong with that Seeley. I know all the stats on soldiers and therapy after a tour from the article I wrote."

"This is not about my tour of duty in Afghanistan."

"Then what is it about?" She replied, clearly exasperated.

An icy silence crept over the table, ruining what remained of what was supposed to be a pleasant weekday lunch; Hannah stared at him but he couldn't quite meet her steeled eyes.

The server interrupted the heated non-exchange, dropping two cheeseburgers off at the table. Neither person moved to touch the plate in front of them.

"I'm not going to just drop this Seeley," she leaned forward.

Booth's jaw tightened, "Bones."

"What?"

"It's about Bones, okay?"

He watched her nod slowly; whether this was in agreement or something else entirely, not even Sweets would be able to tell.

"You've been spending a lot of time with her lately," she said slowly.

Well, this wasn't entirely true. He had spent time with her immediately after the accident and today. But he had spend a good deal of time lying about spending time with her. Somehow he didn't think that revealing this fact would work out in his favor.

"Don't I always?" Booth asked.

She nodded slowly again.

"Bones is in the hospital. She's going through a lot. She needs someone to talk to."

"And that person has to be you?"

"Who else?"

Hannah paused for a few moments. "And you're helping?"

"Yes."

"Do you know for sure how she feels about having you around?"

This time it was Booth's turn to pause. "I haven't asked her about it."

"I know that asking her how she feels is like asking a colorblind kid what color his shirt is-"

"Seriously?" He didn't even try to conceal his anger.

"What are _you_ colorblind?"

"No, I was a sniper in the Army. Of course I'm not colorblind."

"Then what's wrong with that," Hannah refolded her arms.

He shook his head, "Are you saying that Bones doesn't feel?"

"No no," she backpedaled. "She's just…a bit cold you know?"

_She's Iceland. Cold on the surface…_

"No I don't," he sighed. "Look, you were probably right to cut us off. I really don't think this will work," he dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table. "This is just too much for me."

He left without looking back.

* * *

Brennan woke up gradually, her senses turning on one by one until at last she opened her eyes. Soft light of the afternoon filtered through the partially blinded window that offered an incredibly scenic view of the hospital's parking lot. Or at least, Angela had told her so; her bed was not of sufficient height to allow the viewing angle required to see said parking lot.

The room was empty, save her. Silent also, save the pulse monitor clipped to a finger, the machine emitting beeps at regular intervals. The chair Booth occupied earlier that morning remained pulled up along the bed, its emptiness strangely aching. Despite the abundance of visitors she had received (and certainly not always eagerly), Booth's presence was clearly the most missed.

Her mouth dry and no water in reach, Brennan tapped the nurse call button once. She longed for the independence she had before the accident, both physically and emotionally. Physically, therapy and an exercise regimen would restore her to health at or just below her original level. Emotionally, well, only time would tell.

"You rang Temperance?" the now very familiar Nurse Megan stepped through the door. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

She shook her head, "Just thirsty."

Megan stepped in to the hall, her long red pony-tailed hair whipping behind her. She stepped back in, a small water bottle in hand as she twisted the top off and handed it to the anthropologist, dropping the cap gently to the over-bed tray.

"Thanks," Brennan took a greedy swig of the liquid. She couldn't help but notice that she wasn't given the opportunity to open the bottle herself, despite the gains she had made to her dexterity.

"Looks like your boyfriend left his jacket here," the nurse pulled the well worn leather coat off a hanger on the door and dropped it to the chair.

"He's not my boyfriend," she automatically corrected.

"Friend and boy, so technically not incorrect," she smiled, trying to make light of the matter.

Even with his jacket a foot or two away, Brennan couldn't help but get a faint whiff of Booth's characteristic scent.

The olfactory sense is incredibly primitive; it's nerve running close by the amygdala and hippocampus which are responsible for emotion and memory respectively. Just as the pungent aroma of formaldehyde transports her back ever so briefly to her first cadaver dissection, the smell of Booth brought forth a torrent of feelings, thoughts, and ideas she couldn't quite consciously digest all at once.

"Tomorrow we'll be moving you to the hospital rehabilitation facility," Megan said, braking Brennan's train of thought. "It's just down the road, not connected to the main building, but still in the same hospital complex."

"How long will my stay there be?"

"Well, it will of course depend all on the progress you make there. But, seeing how well you've down in your therapy here, I'd say maybe two weeks or so. But don't quote me on that, I'm not a rehab nurse of course!" The nurse's pager beeped. "Duty calls, tap the button again if you need something," she left, closing the door gently behind her.

Brennan looked back at Booth's coat; he would have to come back and get it. Maybe she really was going to be able to escape from these woods.

* * *

_**There you go folks! Chugging along to our final destination!**_

_**Please do leave a review. They truly do motivate me to write and I'd love to hear what you think. Resist the urge to lurk! **_

_**And hey, hype up the return of Bones next week!**_


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